Composing Astra
by legallyinsane93
Summary: *Post-TDK* Bruce Wayne is struggling with the loss of the woman he loved. When Danielle Madison wanders into his path, aimless and fighting her own ghosts, he finds a new sense of purpose as Gotham rallies to wage war on the mob. No battle is without casualties, and so a guardian will have to step up to protect the city's innocent from being caught in the crossfires of corruption.


******Disclaimer: ONE AND ONLY! I do not own any part of the Batman franchise. All credit goes to Bob Kane, Christopher Nolan, and all other responsible parties. I'm only writing this for entertainment, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Title: **Composing Astra

**Summary: **In the wake of the Joker's reign of terror, Bruce Wayne is struggling with the loss of the woman he loved—his hope for a future without the responsibility of Batman weighing on his shoulders. When Danielle Madison wanders into his path, aimless and fighting ghosts of her own, he finds a new sense of purpose. Meanwhile, Gotham City is rallying behind its 'murdered' White Knight and mobilizing to remove organized crime from the streets once and for all. The mob won't go down without a fight, however, and no war is without casualties. With front lines drawn and battlefields chosen in Gotham's battle against corruption, a guardian will have to step up to protect the innocent citizens caught in the crossfire.

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Hello! While not my first foray into fanfiction, this is my first Batman fanfic. I'm super excited about writing it since I've loved Batman and had this idea stirring around in my head for what feels like ages! I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I'm planning for this to be part of a trilogy that will span from Post-TDK through and beyond TDKR. I will warn you now that my updating can be rather sporadic, but I promise I will never abandon a story unless for extreme extenuating circumstances. Please review and tell me what you think, and don't be afraid to toss some ideas my way! :)

Lauren

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**Chapter One**

Patronizing. That was the only word that came to Bruce Wayne's mind as he strode across the atrium of Wayne Enterprises. _**His**_ _Wayne_ _Enterprises_, came the satisfied thought as he ignored the choruses of 'Good morning, Mr. Wayne,' coming from the various employees that happened to be walking across the lobby at the same time as him. He supposed were he in their place he would act the same, for fear of being replaced. Despite frequent allegations to the contrary, Bruce was not an idiot. He knew that ninety-nine percent of the employees didn't say 'good morning' merely to be polite; they wanted, even needed, their positions with this company to remain intact. And so, they were slightly afraid of this new, young owner/billionaire who had swept in and taken the company by storm. He'd caught the attention of these people—who normally wouldn't care who was in charge so long as their paychecks kept arriving on time—with the firing of Mr. Earle, replacing him with the extremely capable Mr. Fox. And now that he'd continued his crusade with the ordered cancellation of Wayne Enterprises' defense contracts and reassignment of the involved employees, none wanted to be next on the chopping block.

Thought of Mr. Fox caused a 'V' to form between Bruce's brows as he stepped into an empty elevator—though a small chuckle did manage to escape the billionaire's throat as he watched a few unfortunate workers divert their steps toward the staircase at the sight of who they'd be sharing an elevator with—and pressed the button for the executive floor. As the elevator began to rise so did Bruce's level of trepidation, and so he sent the thought of his distressed employees to the back of his mind, instead puzzling over possible reasons he'd been called into the office at such an ungodly hour.

It wasn't an ungodly hour for most people, Bruce supposed, but then most people were managing to sleep soundly even after the terror that had gripped Gotham over the past few weeks. Most people had only been distantly affected by the insanity the Joker had unleashed on the city, no closer to the heart of the matter than the news allowed them to be. And so, they weren't plagued by the images of clown masks, explosions, two-faced coins, and scars covered in red make-up every time they closed their eyes. They didn't wake up to the sounds of panicked and tortured screams that faded into maniacal laughter as their brains fought to separate dream from reality.

_To them, you're just a freak like me!_

_Madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push._

_The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules. Tonight, you're gonna break your one rule._

_I think you and I are destined to do this forever._

Bruce was glad he was alone in the elevator as a growl uncharacteristic of his aloof playboy image escaped his throat. So much had been lost over the past few weeks. Even though the public would never know the true extent of just how much the Joker had been able to wound Gotham down to its deepest foundations, Bruce knew. The truth was like bands of iron twisted around his chest during the day, tightening with every undeserved breath he pulled into his lungs. At night, the bands loosened from his chest only to slither into his mind in warped nightmares that would cause him to wake in a cold sweat, his sheets and blankets twisted around his body in testament to the mental struggle he went through.

Last night had been no different. Bruce had awakened from the already-familiar nightmares with adrenaline coursing through his veins and his hands instinctually clenched into fists as that voice coated in demented glee pierced his heart. He'd tossed and turned for the rest of the night in a vain attempt to find sleep once more, and finally managed to slip into a restless doze near dawn. It wasn't meant to last, however, Bruce awakening only a few hours later to a phone call from Mr. Fox claiming that someone was in his office who needed to speak with him. At Bruce's grumpy, half-asleep demand that 'whoever the hell it is' make an appointment and he'd see them later, Fox had good-naturedly given the simple reply that such an action would not be wise and he'd see Bruce soon.

And so, the billionaire now struggled to focus around his measly two hours of sleep as the elevator slowed and finally came to a halt. The sliding doors opened amidst an automated 'ping' into the marble-and-leather arrayed common area outside of his and Mr. Fox's offices. As he stepped into the waiting area, his shoes clicking against the swirled stone, Bruce noticed the desk that was usually occupied by an overly-cheerful secretary named Melissa sat vacant aside from the paperwork and files that always buried the workstation, which explained why Mr. Fox's voice had pulled him into the day rather than her sharp soprano. In fact, the common area as a whole was empty save for a single woman who stood across the room with her back to him. Bruce assumed this was his oh-so-important appointment. Probably some reporter, he mused as he studied the rather leggy blonde who, in turn, seemed to be engrossed in one of several paintings hanging around the room. _If she is a reporter, she isn't exactly suffering for money,_ he thought. His upbringing left him with the primarily useless ability to recognize designer origins from a mile away even in an outfit so casual as this woman's fitted jeans tucked into knee-high low-heeled boots and paired with a loose-fitting emerald green button up shirt with sleeves cuffed at her elbows.

"Are you enjoying Wayne Enterprises' art collection?" Bruce expected the woman to be startled but, to her credit, she merely turned to face him, causing the billionaire to be the one completely offset as he caught sight of the visitor. _Rachel?_

Bruce forced himself to breathe as the bands around his chest tightened tenfold. _No_, he corrected himself. _This isn't_ _Rachel; it can't be. Rachel is gone._ But then who was this girl—for now that Bruce had a clear view he could see that this visitor surely couldn't be any older than eighteen—who dared walk into his company looking just like Rachel?

_No, not exactly,_ Bruce again corrected himself, the bands around his chest loosening a bit at this realization. This girl was shorter than Rachel, with skin tanned to the soft brown of coffee with too much cream and hair the rich golden color of honey versus Rachel's dewy clear skin and hair of deep chestnut. Beneath the reversed coloring, however, this girl certainly held an unmistakable similarity to Gotham's recently-murdered assistant district attorney, all the way from calmly assessing blue eyes to a button nose and full mouth arranged in a heart-shaped face and a jaw set in a way that, like Rachel, indicated that this girl was as stubborn and unshakable as could be. All of this combined for an effect that left Bruce both stunned and breathless until the young woman replied to his question, not seeming to notice that it had merely been rhetorical.

"Yes, I am," she replied, looking at Bruce as she crossed her arms over her chest before glancing back at the painting. "This is Theodore Gericault's _Raft of the Medusa_, isn't it?"

"Yes," Bruce confirmed, finding his tongue as the girl gestured to the painting of which she spoke. It was a grisly scene painted in dark hues: survivors of a shipwreck, entangled with corpses, waved at a distant rescue ship. "Not the original, of course. That hangs in the Louvre."

The young woman hummed an affirmative. "I saw it a few years ago. This is a beautiful copy…though I'm not sure it matches the rest of the collection.

"What do you mean?"

"The rest of your paintings are all from mid-to-late twentieth century." The girl gestured at a few other pictures hanging on the institutional grey walls as she began. "I recognize these as Rockwell, and I believe both of those are Afonso. This, on the other hand, is from the Romantic period." Bruce nodded a needless confirmation, wordlessly encouraging the blonde to continue. "_Raft_ _of the Medusa_ is a historically-based depiction of tragedy, death, despair, horror, and a man's drive to survive, while at the same time showing the hope of better things to come. Yes, it's historically and artistically significant, but I wouldn't find it particularly pleasant to look at if I were waiting for a job interview."

Bruce found himself chuckling. "You have a rather critical eye, Miss"—

"Danielle," the young woman replied immediately, extending her hand. "Danielle Madison."

"Are you an art student, Danielle Madison?" He thought it a fair question. This visitor seemed just the right age to be nestled in a college classroom, not trying to interview company owners or CEOs. So then why was she waiting outside his office?

"Me?" Danielle asked with a short laugh. "Hardly. It just makes for a good distraction when I can't figure out a problem. You wouldn't happen to know anything about differential equations, would you?"

The question caught Bruce off-guard, and he simply stared at the young woman for a moment before realizing she was serious and waiting for an answer. "Uh…no, sorry," he finally said, sending the hopeful look oozing off Danielle's face.

"Dang," the blonde lamented before shrugging. "I figured it was worth a shot."

"So you're not here for any interview?"

Bruce was looking for confirmation as Danielle pivoted on her heel and began striding toward the empty desk on the other side of the room. She paused at the billionaire's words, looking confused as her forehead wrinkled in a way that was far too Rachel-esque for Bruce's comfort levels. "An interview? If so, no one told me about it." She then continued her trek circling around the wide desk of metal and glass to settle in the leather chair behind it, suddenly seeming hesitant when she looked up to find that Bruce had followed every movement, suspicion flickering behind his eyes. "Mr. Fox said your secretary was out for the day," she explained quickly. "He said it'd be alright to use the desk, but I can move if"—

"So no one sent you?" Bruce cut cleanly through Dani's rambling, not caring about whether or not she used the desk. She could light the desk on fire and dance around it for all the concern he'd show. "Not _The Gotham Times_? _The Gazette_? _People_?" He knew it couldn't be a tabloid…there was too much honesty written in the gut-wrenchingly familiar face before him.

"How about a worried mother?" cut in a voice that sparked recognition in the depths of Bruce's mind, saving Danielle from answering. The billionaire turned to see Mr. Fox standing in the doorway of his office with an older woman Bruce immediately recognized as Maria Dawes, Rachel's mother and a former Wayne family employee. "Good morning, Mr. Wayne," she said, breaking away from Mr. Fox to approach the young billionaire. "I see you've met my grand-daughter.

"Grand-daughter?" Bruce echoed dumbly, trying to process Ms. Dawes's words and only being able to think: Rachel didn't have any children.

"Yes," Ms. Dawes confirmed as Bruce glanced between her and a sheepish-looking Danielle. "You remember my eldest daughter, Rebecca?" The billionaire nodded, finally beginning to understand.

While he and Rachel had spent countless hours playing in and around Wayne Manor during their childhood, Rebecca Dawes, seven years older than Rachel, had always proclaimed herself too old for Bruce and Rachel's games. She'd been a bookish young woman, happy to bury herself in the manor's library and determined to leave Gotham City and travel the world. Her hours of study had certainly paid off, as she'd left Gotham for California and a scholarship to UCLA the minute she'd graduated high school. Bruce had seen her at Rachel's funeral just a few days before, though he didn't remember seeing any trace of a family.

"This is her middle child," Ms. Dawes continued, pulling Bruce from his mental musings. "Dani is starting classes at Gotham City University this semester, so she's staying with me."

"Oh, what are you studying?" Bruce asked the blonde occupying his secretary's desk, genuinely interested now that he knew for sure that he wouldn't be hounded for an interview.

"Mechanical engineering," Danielle replied quickly and eagerly. "With minors in computer science and applied mathematics." She then seemed to realize that she probably sounded crazy with how quickly she'd answered, blushing and suddenly finding her hands fascinating as she finished. "I—I'd like to work in robotics."

"That's quite the combination," Bruce noted. "We may have some recruiting to do when this one graduates, Mr. Fox."

"I believe you're right, Mr. Wayne," Fox agreed with a raised eyebrow. "I'm sure we could find something for her to do."

Amused as the evidently quite brilliant young woman before him shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes of the CEO and owner of one of the country's top corporations, Bruce decided to give the kid a break and return to the matter at hand. _Perhaps_ _we can address this quickly so I can go home and_ _at least try to get some sleep,_ he thought as he turned his attention to the woman who had helped raise him years ago. "Am I right to think it was you and not Ms. Madison who wished to speak with me?"

"You are correct," Ms. Dawes replied, turning to her grand-daughter. "Dani, will you be alright out here while I speak with Mr. Wayne?"

"Of course," Dani confirmed, barely glancing up from the textbook and notebook she'd buried herself in the moment she'd been released from the spotlight, her pencil scratching away at what looked to be a series of complex equations. "I'm up to my ears in first order differentials. I'm not going anywhere."

"If you have everything handled here, Mr. Wayne," Lucius Fox began, retreating back to the threshold of his office, "there are several reports from R&D that require my attention."

"Of course, Mr. Fox," Bruce conceded, recognizing the look Lucius sent him. "Send the reports my way when you're finished with them. It's always nice to see where my money is going."

"Yes, sir," Lucius confirmed, turning to Ms. Dawes and Danielle as he continued, "Ms. Dawes, Ms. Madison, it was a pleasure to meet you both." With that, the technological and managerial genius retreated into his office, leaving Bruce to lead Ms. Dawes into his own office after casting one last glance at the young woman engrossed in her studies. He quickly shut his office door as a flash of a similar figure bent over homework in Wayne Manor's library leapt to the forefront of his mind.

The girl really did look far too much like Rachel.

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Even once his office door closed behind him, Bruce wasn't saved from the anxious feeling that had settled in his gut the minute he'd stepped from the elevator and met Danielle. Now, however, it was an older doppelganger that left him at a loss for words rather than a younger version of the woman he'd been certain had been his future. Though, at least now he understood what Lucius had meant when he'd said that having his visitor schedule an appointment to come back would not have been wise.

Rachel and Rebecca Dawes had always favored their mother in both looks and personality, which was fitting considering Maria had raised her children alone and with a firm but gentle hand after a car accident claimed the life of her husband before Rachel was even old enough to remember him. For as long as Bruce could remember, Maria had been a steadfast presence in his life, offering the guiding hand and listening ear in his adolescence that he was sure his own mother would have provided if not for that fateful night when he was eight. He held only the utmost level of respect for Ms. Dawes, and would never dream of sending her away if she needed something.

Still, that wasn't to say this meeting was easy. When a child lost his parents, he was dubbed an orphan. When a husband or wife lost the person they'd chosen to spend the rest of their life with, they were labeled a widow. But there was no name in any language for someone who had been forced to bury their child. Such a reversal of the natural order was too painful to describe in a single word. Bruce had attended Rachel's funeral just a matter of days before, but he'd stayed at the back of the crowd and left as soon as the service was over, unable to face her family and offer his condolences for a loss he could've prevented. He didn't know what he could possibly say to this woman who had given the world everything she could only for it to cruelly rip away even more.

He was saved from being the one to start the conversation when he suddenly found himself pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Bruce hates himself for taking comfort in the same embrace that had consoled him as a child when he'd awakened from a nightmare on nights his father had to stay late at the hospital and his mother was tied up at some charity dinner or another. He should be the one reassuring Ms. Dawes, not the other way around.

"How are you, Bruce?" the aging matriarch asked once she'd released the billionaire from her embrace. In such close proximity, Bruce could see the grey hair creeping into the brunette and the weary sadness weighing down the face that used to glow with pride when he and her daughters brought in good grades or would terrify him with the anger it could show when they trampled mud across freshly-mopped floors. Again, he was swallowed by self-loathing at his failure to be the one offering condolences.

"I'm making it," Bruce returned as honestly as he could, knowing Ms. Dawes would immediately see the lie were he to say he was fine. "I just wish there was something I could've done.

"None of it was your fault, Bruce. How could it be?" Maria said, what was meant to be a comforting hand lingering on his shoulder. _If she only knew,_ the billionaire thought. "Rachel knew what she was getting into the minute she decided to major in law. It would be an insult to her memory to say she didn't. I was proud of her for standing against the corruption eating away at this city, and you should be, too."

"Believe me, I am," Bruce assured the Dawes family matriarch. "I just wish things could've been different."

Ms. Dawes smiled sadly, a certain wistfulness clouding her blue eyes. "Don't we all? When you and Rachel were kids, I used to"—she seemed to break away from whatever memory her mind was conjuring, shaking her head as if to rid herself of some dream that would never come to pass. "But it doesn't matter anymore. Besides, if we all got what we wished for, the world would be chaos."

Bruce fell silent. The world was already chaos. Greed, money, and hunger for power drove people to do terrible things. Evil things. No matter what people had, they always thought they needed more. More money. More clothes. A bigger house. A better car. They sought to be better than everyone around them and in doing so only brought themselves down and opened the door for corruption to flood their streets. It was a vicious, twisted circle that never seemed to end.

"As much as we both miss her, I didn't come here to talk about Rachel," Ms. Dawes pointed out, pulling Bruce from his reverie. "I came to talk about Dani."

"Yes." Bruce agreed with the subject change, gesturing for Maria to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs in front of his desk as he circled around the workstation to take a seat in the leather chair behind the cherry wood masterpiece from which he could oversee the running of his company. "She seems to have a lot of potential, though I don't remember Rachel mentioning a niece."

"Yes, well, Rachel and Rebecca were never particularly close…they were both so focused on their own careers," Ms. Dawes reminded Bruce, who nodded as he remembered the age difference between the sisters being a cause of conflict on more than one occasion. Perhaps it was better they'd stuck to their separate coasts upon reaching adulthood. "But they'd been getting better…Dani was originally supposed to stay with Rachel while she went to school."

"Is school all that brings her to Gotham?" Bruce asked as his curiosity got the best of him. GCU was one of the best universities on the east coast, but for someone accustomed to a southern California climate, Gotham's harsh winter could be a brutal wake-up call. Someone who was good enough for GCU could surely have gained acceptance to Stanford or Berkeley or somewhere equally warm and overflowing with sunshine.

Ms. Dawes seemed to hesitate, but then that inherently honest nature she'd passed on to her daughters won out. "Dani got into some trouble back in Los Angeles," she admitted slowly, Bruce keeping his expression composed in calm inquisition as Maria seemed to seek out any kind of judgment in his features. "I'm not sure exactly what—her mom wasn't specific and she hasn't said much—but I'm not letting it happen again. I was hoping you might have something to keep her busy. An internship or something."

"Wayne Enterprises doesn't traditionally offer internships until a student reaches their junior or senior year of study." Bruce began, leaning forward on his elbows. "But"—

"It doesn't have to make money," Ms. Dawes cut in. "That's not what I'm looking for. I'm not going to sit here and brag, but Dani settled for less in coming to GCU. She's a good kid with a level head on her shoulders. I just want her to stay focused."

"I understand," Bruce replied with a sympathetic nod. "I'm not going to guarantee anything, but if you'll have her send us her information I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you so much, Bruce," Maria gushed, pulling a sealed envelope from the purse in her lap. She set the envelope in front of the billionaire as she stood. "That should have all of the information you might need. If anything is missing, please let me know."

"What about Dani?"

A guilty look crossed Ms. Dawes's face as she admitted, "It would probably be best if Dani didn't know the real reason we met today."

"Why is that? She doesn't want a job?"

"No, it's not that," the matriarch assured the billionaire before her. "Dani is Rebecca's daughter through and through. She's stubborn; she likes to do things by herself in her own way. If you were to offer her a job, she'd take it in a heartbeat. If she knew I had anything to do with it, however, I don't know how receptive she would be."

That struck Bruce as odd. "Then why are you doing this? Why not let her find her own job?"

"You and I both know Gotham is not a safe place to live," Maria reminded the billionaire. "But I promised Rebecca that I'd keep her daughter safe. I'd feel much better if Dani were working under someone I know and trust rather than in some shady fast-food joint with drug deals in the lobby and drive-bys in the parking lot like these other college kids."

Guilt stabbed into Bruce's heart like a thousand tiny knives. Maria shouldn't trust him. If she knew the truth about the deaths of Rachel and Harvey she'd be looking at him in disgust and horror rather than the way she was now—like a son she'd adopted and loved as dearly as her own flesh and blood. Bruce deserved her hatred for failing to keep Rachel safe, but since he couldn't tell Maria the truth no matter how much she deserved to hear it, he would to the only thing he could do. "I'll do what I can to make sure you keep that promise."

"Thank you, Bruce." Relief and gratitude blanketed Maria Dawes's voice. Guilt threatened to drown Bruce—he didn't deserve her gratitude—but he choked it down and rose to his feet as Ms. Dawes began moving toward his office door. "I'm sure you have a ton of work to do, so I'll leave you to it."

Bruce escorted the aging matriarch to his office door, forcing himself not to stiffen as she pulled him into a hug once again. "Your parents would be so proud of you, Bruce."

Maria didn't linger, releasing him quickly and departing through the open door to where Dani waited right where they'd left her buried in homework. The blonde gathered her work quickly, scooping it into her arms and pressing the first two fingers of her right hand against her forehead in a lazy salute to the billionaire before she let her grandmother usher her into the waiting elevator.

The moment the elevator doors closed behind his guests, Bruce fled back into his office, slamming the door behind him and leaning back against it as he forced himself to take several deep, calming breaths. He hadn't been ready. Hadn't been ready to face Rachel's family, particularly her mother. They saw him as one of them, struggling with the loss of a loved one. And it was true; he did struggle with losing Rachel. But even more so he struggled with the fact that she'd been lost because of Batman.

He'd donned the mask to protect those he cared about, and yet Rachel—his hope for a future beyond the cape and cowl—had still been targeted in the Joker's crusade against Batman. The Joker had torn everything down in a matter of weeks that he had spent so long building, and now Bruce didn't know what to do or how to move on. The billionaire returned to his desk and the waiting envelope Maria had left. Slicing through the seal with a letter opener, he shook out a tri-folded stack of papers, opening it to find the first sheet held a blown-up copy of a California driver's license.

Lic. No: R56890134

Class: D

Iss: 07/28/2005

Exp: 12/31/2008

UNDER 18 until 07/26/2007

UNDER 21 until 07/26/2010

DOB: 07/26/1989

Endors: None

Restr: 0

Madison, Danielle Grace

117 Parker Avenue

Los Angeles, CA

Sex: F

Hgt: 5'-04"

Wgt: 115 lb

Eyes: Blue

It was the basic statistics of Danielle's existence, all composed on a single sheet of paper to be correlated and quantified. It was impersonal, telling him nothing of any value about the straight-faced girl in the fuzzy picture. She hadn't even mustered a smile…though no one really smiled if they got pulled over, so he supposed it was an honest picture at least. Determined to learn more about the young woman who'd nearly made him swear he was seeing a ghost, Bruce set the scanned license aside and dug deeper into the stack of papers. He hadn't been able to look out for Rachel and protect her the way he'd wanted, but maybe he could begin to atone for that loss by making sure Maria didn't lose any more family members. If nothing else, at least looking out for Rachel's niece wouldn't require wearing a mask.

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**A/N: **Thanks so much for reading! Please review! :)


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